


Casserole

by genericfanatic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Depression, Gen, Loneliness, Suicidal Thoughts, Talk of Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:52:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9444062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genericfanatic/pseuds/genericfanatic
Summary: After Shiro "dies" on the Kerberos mission, Keith is all alone.Some days are harder than others.





	

“That should about do it,” Keith said, “Lets test it out.”

He activated the switch and the hovercar hummed to life. 

“Amazing,” Carol said, “Honestly, the shop said we’d have to replace the whole unit, but Gerald and I can’t afford a new car right now…”

Keith turned the engine off and hopped out, “That’s just a marketing to get you to buy a new one. Now, its not exactly good as new, but if you change out the magnet in there every once in a while, it’ll last for a while.”

Carol beamed at him. Carol and her new husband Gerald had just moved to town for Gerald’s new job at something so boring neither Carol nor Keith cared to talk about it much. Carol, meanwhile, worked at a 99 cent shop that Keith went to for his “groceries.” Quotation marks were important. He’d helped her once when her car wouldn’t start, and so asked his opinion again when face with the horrifying prospect of having to buy a new one.

“Thank you, Keith,” Carol said, “How much do I owe you?” 

“Uhh…” Keith said, “I don’t…umm.” Keith shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t done it for money, but to be honest he could use it. He just had no idea what a fair price was. 

“How about,” Carol said, “I’ll pay for your groceries from now on, if you promise to come check on it when I need, and maybe a few other things.”

Keith’s eyes went wide, “You would…you would do that?” 

“Of course!” Carol said, “Really, I can’t thank you enough.”

Keith smirked. “Thanks. That…that’d be great.”

With that, Keith went home. 

“Home.”

A few years ago, this little shack in the middle of nowhere hadn’t needed quotation marks. It had just been him and his dad, on the edge. It was cozy. He and his dad probably didn’t seem like the typical close father and son deal. They never played football in the backyard, they didn’t do…a lot of things, really. It was more of a quiet mutual existence that had suited them both well. 

When his father died, Keith was passed to the state and was given to the Garrison, because what else were they going to do? The Garrison was the opposite of home. It was loud. It was full of people who all wanted him to do something. Even in off hours, people always wanted to DO things together. Keith didn’t want to, and he secluded himself from nearly everyone. The only person he ever reached out to was Shiro. 

And now? Now Shiro was dead. His father was dead. His new home, which happened to be his old home, was full of ghosts from Keith’s memory.

He closed the door behind him and sat on the floor, resting against it. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. He looked around the house. 

In an old TV show this would be the part where he could see images of himself and his father in happier times, making food in the kitchen, his Dad on his laptop while he did his homework, usual stuff. But despite the fact he had never rearranged the furniture, the house was far too dead to have people living in it. Sometimes he could pretend in the early mornings when he forgot how old he was, that his dad was coming to wake him up, but he woke up quickly.

Maybe he could take a nap. There was not much else to do. Or he could eat. He hadn’t had lunch, and it was closer to dinner now than anything. But the microwavable noodles and chips he kept on hand didn’t really sound appetizing. Even the frozen vegetables and chicken strips which he had bought himself (like a responsible person living on their own) sounded like far too much effort. 

He knew what he SHOULD do. He could feel the pull, the tug in his heart. He looked up at his cork board covered in pictures and notes he’d taken. He’s spent days staring at it, but he could still feel that little tug that remained constantly unsatisfied with whatever he found. He supposed he could go search the caves again, look for some key about this mysterious blue lion that he’d missed. But…he highly doubted it. 

When he’d first been kicked out of the Garrison he was scared, as was logical when you’re made to live on your own and haven’t really your whole life. But, Keith was a bit of a loner, so he thought he’d be fine. It was so different being ‘alone’ at the Garrison and being alone in the desert. At least there were expectations for him to meet. Go to class. Do the work. Give some kind of reply to your roommate when he asks a question, even if it’s a terse one. 

No one expected anything from him here. It should be freeing, but it was far more overwhelming than anything. And this whole Blue Lion thing had felt like destiny, like a purpose, except for the fact he didn’t have a CLUE what he was doing. The feeling in his gut started to become a norm, and like all norms, he got used to it. He could ignore it. Hell, maybe he’d been imagining the whole thing to begin with. 

He really should eat something. Hunger itself had started feeling more like another emptiness than an indicator for his body. It was like a little light on a hovercar that said he needed to refuel. 

But there were a lot of indicator lights in his metaphorical body. There was the heaviness in his heart. Not pain, not until it got really bad, but a heaviness that anchored him into a ‘why should I bother’ state. Yeah, that was definitely an indicator light. Depression, probably. And he should have that checked, he knew, but by whom?

The ‘best thing’ for him to do would be to crawl back to the state of Texas government. Yeah, okay, so they hadn’t just kicked a teenager on the side of the road, technically. After he got kicked from the Garrison he was supposed to go to some foster home or something, but fuck that. He was in his late teens, he wasn’t about to get adopted. He didn’t want to be. Besides, going back would mean giving up on this Blue Lion crap. He would rather die than leave.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hello suicidal thoughts indicator light. He wasn’t… he wasn’t planning on suicide. Stop looking at him that way, he wasn’t! He just…occasionally thought about what would happen if he, you know, spontaneously deceased. Who would find him first? Would it take days? A week? Two? 

He thought of the people at the Garrison hearing reports of his death. Oh, wouldn’t they be sorry. His fellow students would be all, ‘oh my god, I can’t believe it.’ Maybe some of them might even be sad. He pictured that loud cargo pilot, the one who was always in his face, hearing. Maybe that’d shut him up. 

A part of him tried for the thought of ‘he’d get to see Shiro and his Dad again,’ but that was more of a deterrent. They’d be disappointed in him, assuming the idea of an afterlife was even real. They’d wanted so much for him and he’d failed.

Without thinking much, he took his knife out of his back pocket. He held it close to his chest like some kids would hold a stuffed animal. It had meant a lot…once. Now it was more of a reminder of things lost. 

He could just plunge it into his chest. How long would that take for the pain to stop? He hugged it so tight he was unsure if he was feeling actual pinpricks from the knife or if it was his own heart. 

He hadn’t been thinking about it when he was fixing Carol’s car, and had hoped that that bout of social interaction would be like a fix, letting him last until the next time. Unfortunately, it turned out the opposite was true, and he felt more alone now than he had before. Could a person die from loneliness? Not like, in the suicide-y kinda way, just in the ‘literally your heart gives out because you haven’t been around people’ kind of way. 

And it wasn’t even being around people. He could be AROUND people if he wanted. Town was right there. But he wanted people close to him, like Shiro and his Dad. But if he had problems interacting with people before it was NOTHING compared to right now. He didn’t know how to open up to people, how to ask for help for something that felt so…selfish. Heck, beyond Shiro, he wasn’t too great at making friends as a whole.

He looked around his house. There were dishes still dirty from the day before. They needed to be washed or they’d get moldy. He pushed himself up, putting the knife on the table and went to the sink. He turned the water on and put one dish under the sink. 

The dish clattered out of his hands. “Come on,” He told himself, “Pick it up.” It was like his muscles stopped working and he just stood there, listening to the water running. “Pick up the dish.” He told his hand, but, his hand was attached to him and was therefore stubborn. 

He took a deep breath. He needed to pick up the dish. He was going to run up his water bill. 

What the hell did a water bill matter, he barely had enough money as it was.

“Pick up the dish,” He told himself. “Pick up the—“ Instead he turned the sink off and sat back down in front of the sink. Maybe…maybe he could just stay here forever. He’d had an energy bar for breakfast and some water. How long did it take to die from starvation?

There was a knock on the door. Keith stared at it for a moment, and it was a credit to how little he got visitors his first thought was that he was hallucinating. But, the knock came again and he dragged himself over to the door. He really hoped it wasn’t child protective services.

He opened the door. It was Carol. “Hi Keith!” She said, far too cheery for Keith’s mood, “I wanted to thank you again, so I brought you a casserole.”

Keith stared at her, dumbfounded. “Uhhh…”

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want it,” she said, “But, its an old family recipe, which I thought you’d like. It’s got lots of cheese, and I know you like that…”

Keith, hesitant, took the casserole dish from her. “Thanks…” He said, unsure of what else to say.

“Oh, no problem, hun,” She said, “Just bring the dish to the shop when you’re done.” She smiled brightly. 

She turned to leave, and Keith had about 4 different thoughts going through his head:

1\. No, don’t leave  
2\. She’s probably busy, she doesn’t want to spend time with some kid.  
3\. He was probably being rude to her.  
4\. There was nothing wrong with just asking…

“Hey,” He said, stopping her, “Would you, um…would you like to have some with me?”

She smiled, “Sure, dear.”

They were not great friends, and they would probably never be great friends, but for a little bit, Keith was not alone.


End file.
